


growing pains

by manya



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, God!Bokuto, M/M, Medical Conditions, Terminal Illnesses, okay this is sad i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 10:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11182998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manya/pseuds/manya
Summary: “You don't look like a god.” said Akaashi, although he felt that this was somewhat of a lie. With his golden eyes and eccentric hair and healthy smile, Bokuto seemed like the closest thing to a god that Akaashi was ever going to see. “You look like a boy.”“I am a boy. But I'm also a god.”“How can you be both?”“Does it matter? They're both just words, aren't they?”





	growing pains

Since he was born, Akaashi Keiji has been no stranger to pain. It had been a constant companion throughout his childhood before he had truly understood that the pain was abnormal, that it wasn't something every child had to deal with.

The doctors had told his parents that he had a disease in his connective tissue. He had overheard them while he pretended to slumber in the hospital bed that was far too big for him (he missed his bed at home). At five years old, Akaashi didn't know what connective tissue was. It sounded important, though. It sounded like something his body might need in order to keep working.

 

 

When he was six, they found an abnormality in his heart. “ _It's not good news, I'm afraid._ ” The doctor had told his mother. “ _His pulmonary artery is enlarged to almost twice the size it should be, and it's growing rapidly._ ”. Akaashi hadn't understood, but his mother told him that the nice doctors were doing everything they could to make him better. She smiled, but it looked like it hurt to do so.

 

 

When he was seven, they moved to the countryside. “ _Fresh air is good for your health!_ ” his mother had declared, a smile on her face. It looked forced, and Akaashi had a feeling that she was actually very sad inside. Akaashi didn't want to make his mother sad.

The house was nice, although Akaashi thought that their apartment in Tokyo had been far nicer. He didn't say that, though. He knew his mother and father were hoping that his health might improve in the country. Akaashi hoped so too. Even better than the house was the garden; there was a big grassy field that stretched out into a forest. The trees were taller than anything Akaashi had ever seen before, and he gazed at them with wide eyes. He had never seen trees bigger than buildings.

“It's an old forest.” his father had said.

“Don't go in there,” his mother had said, “You might hurt yourself.”

Akaashi had hidden his frown. He wanted to go exploring. “Superheroes don't let their weaknesses stop them from doing things.”

His mother had smiled at him then, in the way that grown-ups smile at children when they think that they're being stupid. “You can be a hero without going into the forest, Keiji.”

Akaashi had gone into the forest anyway.

He had waited until his parents were busy unpacking, and then he had slipped away. The trudge across the field was slow-going as the ground was wet and Akaashi's sneakers kept getting sucked into the mud, but he kept going until he reached the treeline of the forest.

 _Green_ , was the first impression Akaashi had of the wood. The sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves above, tinting everything a deep mossy colour. Dust and midgies were visible in the rays of sun that streamed through the trees, swirling in the light. It was beautiful, and Akaashi felt his mouth open in a delicate little 'o' shape. The entire forest seemed magical, like something out of a movie. The rustling and chirping of animals in the underbrush and in the trees seemed somewhat muted, as if someone had turned down the volume. Akaashi walked further in, relishing the feel of earth and twigs and grass beneath his feet. He had to stop after a few minutes, feeling the familiar ache in his hips and knees. His mother wouldn't be happy if he ended up pushing himself to his limits again. The pain could vary from day to day, from a gentle throbbing to a sharp searing stabbing. It settled in his joints, from his elbows to his fingers to his wrists to his hips to his knees to his ankles. Today, it was bearable. Today, Akaashi felt like he could do amazing things.

“Hello!” a voice said from up a tree.

Startled, Akaashi blinked and peered around, spotting a boy around his age nestled into the branches. “Hello.” he repeated. “Why are you up a tree?”

“Because this is my favourite branch.” the boy said, before swinging himself down to the ground. He landed in front of Akaashi and straightened up, beaming. He was the strangest looking boy Akaashi had ever met; white and black streaked hair was slicked up in two vertical spikes on his head, creating the illusion of horns. His eyes were golden and his skin was tanned, and his smile caused two big dimples to break out on his cheeks. He looked strong, for a seven year old. Akaashi wondered how he looked in comparison. “I'm Bokuto Koutarou!”

“Akaashi Keiji. What are you doing in the forest?”

“I'm a god!” Bokuto proclaimed proudly, sticking his chest out and drawing his shoulder blades back and down. He cut a remarkably impressive figure (but then maybe Akaashi was too easily impressed).

“You don't look like a god.” said Akaashi, although he felt that this was somewhat of a lie. With his golden eyes and eccentric hair and healthy smile, he seemed like the closest thing to a god that Akaashi was ever going to see. “You look like a boy.”

“I am a boy. But I'm also a god.”

“How can you be both?”

“Does it matter? They're both just words, aren't they?”

Akaashi blinked. “I suppose so.” he said eventually. He felt like Bokuto was oversimplifying things, but he felt too tired to argue the point further. “Do you live in the forest?”

“No.” Bokuto said. He didn't elaborate, choosing to change the subject instead. “Did you just move into the house at the edge of the wood?”

“Yes. My parents said that fresh air is good for your health.”

“It sure is!” yelled Bokuto, hands on his hips and chin in the air. He seemed proud, as though he were personally responsible for the health benefits of fresh air.

“Do you think fresh air will make me better?” Akaashi asked curiously. He had been afraid to ask his parents earlier, as most of the time when Akaashi asked about his condition his mother got very sad and his father got angry.

“Are you sick?”

“My mother doesn't like to call it sick.” Akaashi told him. “She says I have a condition.”

“What kind of condition?” Bokuto had tilted his head to the side, and Akaashi had to force himself not to laugh – with his hair, he was remarkably reminiscent of an owl.

“The doctors said it's a connective tissue disorder. They say it affects my vascular system.” The big words tripped off Akaashi's tongue, but he was proud of himself for remembering them all.

“That sounds complicated.” Bokuto frowned.

“If you're a god, shouldn't you know all these things?”

“I'm a forest god. I've never been sick before, and I've never been to a hospital.”

“Oh.” Akaashi felt awkward. He had never spoken much with kids his own age, and most of the time when adults spoke to him they made big efforts to completely avoid the issue of his health, as if not talking about it would make it go away.

“Wanna go exploring?” Bokuto asked.

For the first time in weeks, Akaashi smiled.

 

 

 

  
Bokuto was not what Akaashi would have originally imagined a god as, but in time he found that he couldn't imagine a god any other way.

When Bokuto was angry or sad, the skies were too; the clouds would become grey and stormy, until eventually they split open and cried tears of rain. When Bokuto laughed, flowers bloomed and the forest was vibrant and colourful and full of life. When Bokuto was happy, Akaashi felt like the forest was too.

“You seem happier, dear.” his mother had remarked one evening.

Akaashi had nodded thoughtfully and replied, “I think the fresh air is good for me.”

 

 

 

Some days they would race through the trees, euphoric as they laughed and ran through their magic bubble. The pain in Akaashi's fragile joints seemed muted, unimportant as he clung onto Bokuto's hand and trusted that he wouldn't get them lost (he always knew where they were in the forest). Sometimes shadowy shapes and figures moved through the undergrowth and Akaashi felt like if he took a proper look at them he would see impossible things, but Bokuto always ran too fast for him to ever have a chance to stop and look.

The animals became used to his presence, no longer fleeing when the two boys came crashing through the undergrowth with dirt on their cheeks and twigs in their hair. 

(For the first time in his life, Akaashi felt _young_ )

“Bokuto-san,” he gasps for breath after one of their runs. They had found a small stream, and Bokuto had delighted in splashing around in it. He had removed his shirt, and for the first time Akaashi noticed the markings. “What are those designs on your chest?”

“These?” Bokuto points at his chest, looking proud. “They mark me as a god!”

“Can I touch them?” Akaashi wondered, and Bokuto granted him permission with a cheerful nod. They look like ink up close, like tattoos that grown ups have. They twist over his back and shoulders, down the front of his chest. They're thin and delicate, and Akaashi can almost imagine he can _see things_ in them; the head of a bird (it looks like an owl), a reaching hand, slanted eyes. “They're beautiful.”

Bokuto grins, and Akaashi thinks that the god markings aren't the only things that are beautiful about this boy.

 

 

 

“Does it hurt?”

They were nine years old, sprawled on the forest floor. There were twigs digging into Akaashi's back, but the warmth coming from Bokuto's body by his side made it bearable. The glimpses of sky through the leaves above them was a deep, calm blue.

“Does what hurt?” he asked. Bokuto gave him a look that meant _you know exactly what I mean_ , and Akaashi wondered when he had become so adept in reading Bokuto's facial expressions. He turned his face away, and took a moment to answer. “There are good days and bad days.”

“Where does it hurt usually?”

A humourless smile. “Everywhere.”

“Maybe we shouldn't have run so much.”

“I like running with you, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi said honestly. He watches red bloom through Bokuto's cheeks, but he doesn't understand it.

A bright smile breaks across Bokuto's face, and Akaashi thinks that the sunshine feels a little bit warmer. “I like running with you too, Akaashi! But I don't want you to get hurt.”

“I'm fine, Bokuto-san.” He said, and in the warm summer sun he can almost believe it.

 

 

 

Akaashi is walking downstairs one day when it first happens. He lifts his leg to take a step on the stairs, but as soon as his leg is in the air he knows it feels wrong. There's a faint _pop_ , and then searing pain in his hip, across his groin and down his leg. He grunts and tries to put the leg back on the ground, but the as soon as he puts weight on it the pain intensifies and his knee buckles. He doesn't scream as he falls down the stairs, but it's not from lack of trying – the pain seems to have rendered his voice useless.

His mother hears the crash as he hits the floor and races into the hallway, and she screams enough for the both of them. She screams for his father and she screams for an ambulance, and Akaashi can hear her screams echo in his ear long after they've subsided.

The doctors in the hospital tell him it was a dislocated hip. They tell him it's nothing to worry about. Akaashi worries anyway.

He hears them tell his parents that they should expect that sort of thing a lot more often. Their voices are hushed, so Akaashi knows that he isn't supposed to hear the rest of their conversation.

When they get home and Akaashi asks his parents what the word _'terminal'_ means, they cry. Akaashi has never seen his father cry before, and he's struck by the wrongness of it. _Terminal_ is a very bad word, he now knows. He wonders why the doctors use it, if it's so bad that it makes grown ups cry.

 

 

  
They move back to Tokyo when Akaashi turns eleven. He doesn't want to go, but his parents insist. They wanted to be closer to a hospital for when … (they've never managed to tell him what exactly it is that they're waiting to happen)

He doesn't say goodbye to Bokuto, because he thinks it will be too painful. He regrets it as soon as they drive away, the brand new _For Sale_ sign shrinking in the rearview mirror.

He cries on the first night back in Tokyo, and the second and the third and the fourth. He doesn't remember which night he stops crying. He never stops missing the forest.

 

 

He makes a new friend. Oikawa loves volleyball and is passionate about aliens, and he is very nice to Akaashi. Even though he whines and can be very over-dramatic, he always makes sure that Akaashi is feeling okay. On days when Akaashi moves slowly and stiffly because of the pain in his joints, Oikawa always walks slowly too. He says it doesn't matter if he's late to where he's going, and Akaashi is grateful because he's sick of being left behind.

Oikawa introduces him to his friend Iwaizumi, and to his other friends Matsukawa and Hanamakki. Akaashi feels like he has never known so many people all at once. They're all friendly and kind, and they joke and laugh easily. They're wonderful, but Akaashi misses Bokuto.

 

 

  
Akaashi is sixteen, and everything goes to shit.

His hips have dislocated again, his connective tissue no longer strong enough to hold his joints in place. He wants to cry, but his mother is already in tears and the need to be strong for her outweighs the desire to weep.

When the doctors enter the room, they ask him how he's feeling. Akaashi wants to shout at them, he wants to swear and rage and storm because _how the fuck do they think he's feeling? He's hardly sitting in the hospital with two dislocated hips for the fun of it, is he?_ He manages a smile. “I'm fine.”

His mother sobs. His father isn't there. The doctor nods. “You're a very brave boy.”

Akaashi doesn't feel brave. He feels very small and very scared, and he wants to be back in the forest. He doesn't want to stand another hospital visit, he doesn't want to see his mother cry anymore. He doesn't want to be in pain anymore.

The doctor leaves to talk to his mother outside, and Akaashi thinks of Bokuto. He thinks, in particular, how it's quite likely that he imagined him. He thinks of his larger than life personality, gravity-defying hair, and his bright smile. He thinks of the markings on his chest, how he made flowers grow and affected the weather, and how he called himself a god.

Akaashi thinks he wants to go back to the forest.

 

 

 

It's been six years since Akaashi has moved back to Tokyo, and he's spent more time in hospitals than at home. Oikawa visits him often, bringing him news of the volleyball team he plays for and gossip from school. He brings movies and magazines and books, and his presence is enough that Akaashi can pretend for a short while that everything is alright. The illusion never lasts long, but it keeps him sane.

Oikawa is visiting one day when he says, “Have you ever thought about going back?”

The question comes out of the blue, and Akaashi isn't quite sure what he's referring to. “Sorry?”

“The forest you always talked about. I was thinking of it the other day.”

Akaashi purses his lips and looks down at his hands. “I don't think so, Oikawa-san. I think it would be too painful.”

“And you wouldn't regret it?” Oikawa's tone is innocently casual, but his eyes are sharp and assessing. “You'd be fine with just never returning?”

There are no words to describe what the thought of never returning to the forest does to Akaashi – it makes him feel even sicker than usual. “Oikawa-san, please.”

“Don't you want to see your friend again? What was his name.. Bokurou-san?”

“Bokuto-san.” Akaashi corrects on instinct. “I already told you, he was just an imaginary friend.”

“No offense, Kei-chan,” Oikawa begins in a tone that suggests he's about to offend, “but you don't have much of an imagination. Are you really likely to have made up someone like that?”

Akaashi looks away.

“Think about it, Keiji,” Oikawa says in a rare display of seriousness. “If you want to go, myself and Iwa-chan will help you.”

Akaashi nods and thinks about seeing Bokuto's wild hair and savage beauty. It makes him hurt in a way that has nothing to do with his illness.

 

 

 

“I can't believe we're doing this.” Akaashi breathes, clutching at his seatbelt.

Oikawa has commandeered Iwaizumi's car and has somehow bullied him into driving all three of them into the countryside, to Akaashi's old home. They're parked outside, and the sight of the forest looming up behind the small house leaves him feeling as though he's just received a heavy kick to the chest.

“If your doctors find out, they'll probably kill us.” Iwaizumi mutters. He sounds surly, but Akaashi knows that he'll be nothing but supportive of him no matter how much he disagrees with what they're doing. It's one of the many reasons that Oikawa looks at him as though he's just hung the stars.

“Are you ready?” Oikawa turns and grins at him.

 _No,_ Akaashi thinks, but nods and unbuckles his seatbelt. Oikawa helps him out of the car, and supports him as he tries to establish his balance on his feet. Iwaizumi stays to watch the car, but Akaashi can feel his gaze on his back as he limps towards the forest with Oikawa's arm wrapped around his back.

They have to stop once they enter the forest, because Akaashi is nearly too overwhelmed to move. Nothing has changed – it's like the entire place has been kept in a bubble. The sunlight filters through gaps in the trees, leaving dappling patterns all along the ground. The whole place smells of moss and mist, and it feels like home.

Beside him, Oikawa makes a small noise of awe. “It's incredible here.”

Pride wells up in Akaashi, and he nods. “Bokuto-san is usually further in.” They set off again, Akaashi leaning heavily on his friend. The familiar searing pain is flaring up again, but he can ignore it – the excitement and nerves at the thought of seeing Bokuto again is almost overwhelming.

The scent of grass and old rain wells up the farther they go, and the sound of grass and forest debris crunching under their feet allows Akaashi to breathe a little easier. His lips are curving into a tiny smile, and he feels lighter than usual. The look in Oikawa’s eyes as he gazes at the vast canopy of deep green far above their heads is familiar, a mirror image of what he had felt the very first time he had come here himself. When Oikawa looks at him again, he’s grinning softly, “I can see now why you never shut up about here, at least.”

Akaashi smiles back; it’s the first genuine smile that has broken across his face in years. Oikawa looks almost stricken, but recovers himself quickly and ruffles his hair. In the face of Oikawa’s easy affection and the warm familiarity of the forest, Akaashi can feel emotion building in his chest so strongly that he feels he may cry. Biting his lip, he holds onto Oikawa’s arm as they walk, a mere halting crawl to accommodate for his reduced mobility. “I’ve missed it here.” he says after another few moments, and it’s only once the words have left his mouth that he realises how true it is. Tokyo has never felt like home, not really; there has always been a sense of eventuality about this forest, as though his whole life has been leading up to returning here. He wonders how he’ll be able to return to Tokyo after his visit here, but swiftly puts that thought out of his mind. He doesn’t want to think of Tokyo and his sobbing mother and his endless hospital visits; the forest feels as if it’s a world away from all that, and for the time being Akaashi can pretend that it is.

“Akaashi?”

It takes Akaashi a long moment _(too long)_ to realise that it wasn’t Oikawa who had spoken. His voice is deeper now, after all, a baritone rumble to it that had never been present when they were children. Akaashi tries to turn too quickly and nearly dislocates a hip; it’s Oikawa who saves him, by grabbing him by the waist and keeping him steady. Akaashi barely notices, because the sight before him makes him lose his breath.

Bokuto is standing at the base of an enormous, ancient tree. He’s grown _(oh, how he’s grown)_ \- Akaashi gazes at him and thinks that he must be over six foot now. His hair is the same as always, standing wildly on end in every direction and contrasting with his beautifully tanned skin. He’s shirtless, wearing only a deep green _hakama_ , and Akaashi can see that the god marks over his chest have spread down his arms and curl over his biceps. They’ve thickened too; what were once delicate little twists and now strong, broad curls, as though they’ve filled out along with Bokuto himself. His golden eyes have been trained on Akaashi since he’s turned, and he can’t help but feel as though he’s caught under the gaze of a predator.

“What are you doing here?” Bokuto asks, and his voice is devoid of the warmth that usually characterises it. The forest feels a little bit dimmer, all of a sudden. “How dare you return as though you never left? I was _waiting_. You never came.”

Oikawa’s grip tightens around Akaashi’s waist, but he barely feels it. He’s distantly aware of Oikawa looking skyward, and realises that the trees have grown dark and are now blocking out the natural light. “Keiji-?” Oikawa whispers, his voice full of uncertainty.

“I waited in the forest every day for you.” Bokuto is baring his teeth now. “My friends and the forest spirits told me to forget it, but I kept waiting. It was only when a forest sprite came and told me that someone new lives in the house at the end of the forest that I realised you weren’t coming. So why are you here now?”

There’s rustling coming from the trees behind and around them, and dark shapes flit about in the shadows. Oikawa is tense and scared beside him, but Akaashi is still speechless at the shock of seeing Bokuto again. After a moment of silence, Oikawa audibly swallows and says, “You’re being unfair. Kei-chan never stops talking about you and the forest, he’s wanted to come back for-”

“Who said he’s welcome back?” Bokuto snarls, and Akaashi is reminded quite abruptly of a wounded animal snapping at anyone who comes close. Beside him, he can feel Oikawa gearing up for a fight - no matter how scared or hopelessly outnumbered they are, Oikawa has _always_ stood up for Akaashi, often at the detriment of his own well-being. 

The forest is so dark now that the faint golden glow beneath Bokuto’s skin is visible now. Akaashi can’t take his eyes off him as he shrugs off Oikawa’s arm and steps forward on his own. He’s wobbly on his feet without any help or support, and he knows that if he were to look behind him right now Oikawa would be stretching his hand out, ready to assist him if he needs it. But this is something that he needs to do on his own, so he doesn’t look back. “Bokuto-san,” he says, and it sounds as though the name has been choked out of him.

Bokuto takes a deep breath through his nose, but at the sound of Akaashi’s voice the quality of his gaze has changed. He no longer looks as harsh or forbidding; he looks more like himself now, and Akaashi can’t help but feel pleased. “Akaashi.” he says, and this time his pain shows on his face. “Why are you here?”

Akaashi wobbles forward another step, pain lancing through his feet and up his legs. He stretches his hand out, but stops just short of touching Bokuto’s chest. The quiet magnitude of the moment crashes over him and leaves him unable to do anything for a moment, but then it’s over and he places his hand right over Bokuto’s heart. The steady thrumming is more reminiscent of a hummingbird’s heartbeat than a human’s, but then it always had been. Akaashi’s mouth opens in a tiny o-shape, and he tilts his head up to meet Bokuto’s eyes. “You _are_ real.” he says, his surprise audible even to himself.

Bokuto’s face contorts for a moment, as though he can’t quite decide on what expression to school his features into. “You thought I wasn’t real?”

“It’s been so long,” Akaashi murmurs, distracted by the soft firmness of the pectoral muscle beneath his hand, “I wasn’t sure.”

Bokuto raises his hand to Akaashi’s, and Akaashi can feel his heart sink at the thought of not being allowed to touch him anymore. But instead of removing Akaashi’s hand from his chest, Bokuto’s big fingers wrap around his wrist and stay there. After a moment, Akaashi realises that his fingers are resting directly over his pulse point. “You’ve gotten taller,” he says.

Akaashi can’t help himself - he laughs, quietly and joyously. “And you haven’t? You look like you’re trying to outgrow the trees.”

Bokuto grins, so wild and wonderful that it makes Akaashi’s heart ache. He can hardly believe that he’s here again, surrounded by these towering trees and mysterious shapes lurking behind them, with the smell of wet moss and Bokuto’s tanned skin and bright smile within touching distance. He’s so happy that he feels like he might float away.

Behind them, Oikawa clears his throat. A flush climbs into Akaashi’s cheeks as he realises that he had completely forgotten about his friend, and he turns around carefully to face him. He doesn’t take his hand from Bokuto’s chest - he doesn’t think he’s strong enough to do that right now. “Oh. Bokuto-san, this is my friend.”

“Oikawa Tooru.” Oikawa smiles, his gaze flicking between the two. His stance has relaxed since Bokuto stopped snarling, but his body is still angled towards Akaashi in the way it does when he’s concerned.

Akaashi is suddenly hyperaware of how beautiful Oikawa is, and how he must look in comparison. He knows that he has deep purple circles underneath his eyes, and that he’s lost a huge amount of weight during his time in hospital. He knows his legs in particular are skinny and unsightly, thanks to the wasted muscles in his hips and thighs. He’s embarrassed, and doesn’t want Bokuto to look at him again.

“Stop it.” Oikawa’s voice is sharp and clear, his eyes even more so. He shoots Akaashi a sharp glare. He has always been so good at identifying when Akaashi’s self-esteem is slipping.

Confused, Bokuto glances between the two of them. “What is it?” he asks Akaashi, frowning when he’s ignored. Akaashi misses his smile.

“Kei-chan is thinking negative thoughts about himself again.” Oikawa announces, places his hands on his hips. 

“Why are you doing that, Akaashi?” Bokuto looks down at him in genuine surprise. There is honest confusion in his eyes, as if he can’t imagine anything negative that could be said. 

His gaze is almost too much, and when Akaashi opens his mouth to speak he finds that the words tumbling off his tongue aren’t the ones he intended to say. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t know how to. I regretted it as soon as we were gone. I didn’t even want to leave, it was my mother’s idea. She wanted to be closer to a hospital for when-” he cut himself off, swallows. He has learned in the years since what exactly they were waiting for, but he doesn’t want Bokuto to know how weak he is. How weak he has become. “For when I get bad.”

“You’re still sick?”

Akaashi smiles humourlessly. “It’s not the kind of sickness that gets better, Bokuto-san.”

When Bokuto frowns again, Akaashi almost laughs - he recognises the way his brow furrows, the way his lower lip sticks out. That’s Bokuto’s stubborn expression. “Everything can get better. We just need to find a cure.”

“The doctors have already tried everything.” Akaashi sighs. He’s been through every test, every experimental trial, every physical therapy. He doesn’t think he can make it through much more.

“The doctors aren’t forest spirits, are they?” Bokuto beams, as though he’s solved everything. “Let me talk to my friends. They’ll be able to help! Can you come back tomorrow?”

“Okay.” Akaasi doesn’t even stop to think, which is entirely unlike him. He wonders if Bokuto’s magic makes his brain short-circuit when he’s around him, but he knows that he’s just lying to himself - even though he had admired Bokuto deeply as a child, he had never felt quite as awestruck by him as he did now.

Oikawa makes a small sound, and Akaashi almost starts - he had forgotten that he was there yet again. “Where are we supposed to stay until tomorrow?” 

“No problem,” Bokuto waved a hand carelessly, “My friend will take you in!”

 

 

 

In the past, when Akaashi had imagined being back in his old home by the edge of the forest everything had remained the same. The same pictures would be hanging on the walls, the same furniture would be placed precisely in the living room to optimise the amount of space (his mother had quite the flair for interior design), and the walls would be the same shade of ugly yellow they had always been. He had never really factored in the idea that someone had bought the house after they had moved, or that they had taken all their furniture and photographs with them to Tokyo. A silly miscalculation, really.

Even with new furniture and with the walls painted a fresh cream colour, the layout of the house is the same. The same windows looked out onto the towering forest, the same fluffy carpet covered the living room floor, although worn by time and use. There’s even the same small pencil marks by the doorway of the kitchen, where Akaashi’s mother had proudly recorded each one of his growth spurts.

Bokuto’s friend is called Sawamura Daichi, and his parents had bought the house after Akaashi’s family had moved. He lives on his own and makes no further mention of any family, but is gracious and courteous and generous when it comes to feeding Akaashi and his friends. He has a wide, white smile and chats freely and genially, easily capturing Oikawa and Iwaizumi in conversation. Akaashi stays quiet, but they all seem to read his need for space like it’s written across his face and make no overt attempts to draw him into the conversation. His head is so full up of Bokuto and the forest and magic that there’s really nothing else he could concentrate on, so it would be a shame to join in when he can’t properly engage.

After dinner, they relocate to the living room. Iwaizumi helps Akaashi onto one of Sawamura’s cushy couches, and then settles down next to him. The furniture is not arranged as expertly as Akaashi’s mother’s had been, but it gives off a warmer, cosier effect. Akaashi thinks he prefers it, actually.

“So, you and Bokuto were childhood friends, huh?” Sawamura grins as he melts into one of the armchairs by the window. “You must have had the patience of a saint.”

Akaashi can’t help the small smile that creeps across his face. His cheeks ache, and he realises that he’s been smiling with alarming regularity over the past few hours. He wipes it from his face and resolves to stop. “He was very hyperactive,” he allowed, tilting his head in thought. “But he was kind to me, and always made sure to slow down so that I could follow along.”

Sawamura nods and smiles again, and doesn’t ask any more questions. They talk a while longer, although it is really Oikawa and Sawamura who carry the conversation, before deciding it is time for bed. To Akaashi’s chagrin, he is offered Sawamura’s bed, because of his _condition_. Despite the humiliation he can’t help but feel at the thought of forcing a new acquaintance from their bed to make room for him, he accepts as graciously as he is able.

He falls asleep in Sawamura Daichi’s bed in the room overlooking the forest; it is his childhood bedroom, although it seems almost as detached from his childhood as he feels himself. His last thought before sleep claims him is the realisation that, for the first time in years, he is looking forward to waking up in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so i just wanna say thank u for reading! this is pretty much based on my own autoimmune disease, and a lot of this is written to try and help me cope. it's tough going and scary and sometimes impossible to deal with, so writing this and putting it up here was basically an act of catharsis.
> 
> anyway, i hope you guys enjoyed reading it! there is another part to come!


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